Chapter One

Life in the Marsh was hard, yet life in the small village was all that Layla knew. She'd never gone beyond the borders, knowing not to go east into the dark forest from which no one returned and fearing going west almost as much.

She'd lost her parents when they'd dared to try and find a better place to live; they'd gone west and gotten into an accident or robbed and killed. She'd heard so many stories she didn't know what to believe, and she'd been too young to really remember. Finding out what had happened seemed like a pointless waste of energy when she had to worry about keeping starvation at bay.

There wasn't much that could grow in the wet lands, with plants more likely to rot than bloom, yet she had found a way to keep her makeshift garden dry. Dry enough to grow some herbs and vegetables, but not enough to keep her and her best friend, Nieve, fed through the year.

The garden wasn't much more than a few square feet of green with a small path between them. Nieve had made a rickety fence held together with string and old nails, to keep at least the grounded animals out, and they were saving money to buy a net, so hopefully the birds wouldn't pick at the good fruits and vegetables before the girls could.

Layla could feel her friend's steel-grey stare on her as much as she felt the sun on her back, as much as she could feel sweat trickle down her neck while she tended to her plants; her fingers softly caressing the leaves while she pulled out the weeds she didn't want. She'd even been able to grow some strawberries, picking a few that had grown lusciously red when her stomach groaned. She wasn't really sure why plants seemed to grow around her, but she'd learned enough about life not to question it too much.

She turned to her friend when Nieve sighed dramatically and found her dark-skinned friend fanning herself while she sat in the shade, her feet dangling off the porch. It had been a couple of days since someone had bought some herbs or fruits from them, and even longer since anyone had needed Nieve to heal them or stitch them up, and it was clear it was leaving the brunette fidgety.

Nieve never really told Layla much about her past, but just looking at her told the blonde enough to know her friend had had a good life before she'd shown up in the Marsh three years ago. For one, Nieve never wore anything but dresses, even living in the poverty she now knew; she'd always felt the importance of looking proper, her posture perfect where Layla would slump in her seat, her hair pinned up where the blonde didn't bother to do more than put a ponytail in it. Layla looked at her hands, calluses showing on the palms of her hands from working in the garden so much, dirt under her fingernails that never really left her no matter how often she washed her hands. Nieve's hands were as soft as a baby's. She didn't mind, though, knowing she'd earned those calluses and she absolutely loved tending to her plants.

"Can I help you with anything?" Nieve asked, getting an immediate shake of the head in reply. She caught a strawberry when her friend tossed it her way. She always felt so useless whenever Layla was working on her plants, but she didn't dare step into the garden. Where plants flourished around her friend, they seemed to wither and die whenever she'd come near them. She'd always wondered whether her blonde friend might have some prime blood in her. The thought always made her nervous and it had been part of why she'd never completely opened up to even Layla. Nieve hated primes as much as most commons hated primes. Primes, with their powers, always had a better life, no matter how small that power was. They looked down on commons, only using commons for work they themselves didn't want to do.

If Layla had prime blood, it wasn't much. The plants she tended grew against the odds, but it wasn't like she could get trees to shoot up or make tomatoes grow as big as her head like primes with earth powers could.

Nieve took a small bite from the strawberry, enjoying the explosion of sweetness in her mouth for as long as she could. She always tried to take really small bites, so a single strawberry felt like more.

She watched as her friend turned back to her plants, crouching in the dirt to get close enough to pull out even the smallest of weeds. Layla looked as soft as she was sweet, a permanent blush on her otherwise fair cheeks. No matter how long she stayed in the sun, she never seemed to tan much, the redness of her cheeks the only giveaway that it was hot out. They were both very thin, but where Nieve was all cheekbone and sharp eyes, Layla remained smooth and warm, her eyes as brown as the earth she loved so much.

As soon as Nieve finished her strawberry, her friend tossed her another one, the last one she could have today. Her stomach growled, making it clear her two-strawberry diet wasn't going to cut it.

"I'm gonna check if we still have some dried fruits or money left," she said, getting an absent wave in reply that made her roll her eyes.

She stepped into the small house she'd called home for the last three years. It wasn't much more than a one room wooden shack, with two small cots on the floor and a stove that hadn't been used in weeks. They had a small table with two wobbly chairs, a vase with some wildflowers the only thing that slightly cheered the place up. Nieve had tried to turn the beige drapes red by staining them with berries they couldn't eat, but the fabric had been so stubborn that she'd ended up only getting bits of it a pink shade.

The shack was nowhere near as comfortable as the house she'd grown up in, but it felt more like home than her old place ever had.

She headed for the small cabinet they called their pantry. The floor creaked with every step she took, and she knew which board not to step on if she didn't want to end with her foot through the floor. She already knew the pantry was empty, but still opened it, hoping against hope that she'd overlooked some food when she'd last checked yesterday. The door squeaked like everything else in the shack did, and Nieve found nothing but dust on the other side of it. She reached for the drawer next to it, where they saved their money, but knew they'd spent their last pennies the day before.

It seemed like it was time for another night at the bar, she realised grudgingly when her stomach growled again. She might make it through tonight without food, but she'd definitely need something tomorrow.

Ryan sighed as he let his head fall back against the sofa, his feet resting on the coffee table as he listened to his mother drone on about his responsibilities for tomorrow. He wanted to rake his fingers through his short hair and close his eyes, maybe take a nap, but he was sure she wouldn't appreciate that very much. He'd heard her speech so often he could recite it in his sleep. He knew he was blessed to be born as the only son to Lord and Lady Simia, but sometimes he wished he could trade places with the guards, or even his little sister, and just have a mind of his own instead of one controlled by his parents.

He could hear Riven smirk next to him and suppressed the urge to elbow his best friend, knowing he'd know what he was up to before he'd even done it. Having a mind reader as a best friend came with a lot of advantages, but it really sucked that there was no way to get the upper hand in a fight. Of course, that was the main reason his father had assigned Riven as his bodyguard.

'Pay attention', Riven's voice rang in his head, making him sigh and focus on his mother just in time to hear her sigh.

"Just promise to behave," she ended her hour-long speech when she finally realised her son hadn't listened to a word.

"I always behave," he replied, the smile on his face making her shake her head before she turned her attention to Riven. Any love she'd shown Ryan disappeared from her face as her gaze settled on his tall friend.

"I expect you to keep him from… acting up," she said, her tone as devoid of emotion as her face.

"Of course, Milady," Riven nodded, giving the wall on the other side of the room the same stoic expression he always had on his face. Ryan looked at his friend standing next to the chair he was sat in, his back straight, arms behind his back, no trace of the smile he knew he'd crack the second his mother left the room.

Riven's back slackened when she was gone, but only just, and he finally turned his blue eyes to his friend. "I'm assuming I just lied to Lady Simia," he murmured as he watched Ryan get up, smiling helplessly when Ryan nodded and crossed his enormous bedroom to get to his wardrobe, the thick carpet under his feet muffling the sound of his shoes as he did so. Riven knew what he'd get tossed his way before his bulky friend opened the door.

"Come on, it's been so long since we left Serenissima," he said, holding up two pairs of commons clothes. Riven wanted to object, but he knew his friend would only threaten to go alone, and he'd have to follow anyway. It was best to just go along with Ryan's whims before he'd set his bedroom on fire in protest. It wouldn't be the first time, and the bodyguard was pretty sure that Lady Simia was rather fond of her home the way it was.

"Yes, alright, fine," he finally agreed, shaking his head when the heir to the Simia empire whooped excitedly. "You know I'm obligated to say this is a very bad idea," he added, knowing his words were falling on deaf ears.